The Seventh Day
by asteroidbuckle
Summary: Drake's always been good at breaking rules. Why should the Ten Commandments be any different? Drake/OMC


**Title:** The Seventh Day  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Category:** non-canon, one-shot  
**Warnings:** slash, bad words, insanity  
**Pairing:** Drake/OMC

**Author's Note 1:** I am not religious, so the Bible, like everything else, is fair game to me. If you are offended by even a little good-natured fun, then please don't read this.

**Author's Note 2: **This story can be blamed on two things: cold medicine and a propensity towards mental illness. I don't know where this idea came from, frankly. But it begged to be written. Enjoy.

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**The Seventh Day  
or, How Drake Parker Broke Six Commandments Before Breakfast**

**Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife (or thy neighbor, for that matter).**

Drake wakes up with a pounding headache and a hard-on so painful it hurts to even think about it. Cursing at the rude way the blade of sunlight is peeking through the curtains and slicing across his eyes, he rolls his head to the right and looks at the clock.

Six thirty-seven. AM. Fuck.

He thinks about his dream. He rarely remembers most of his dreams, the remnants dissolving into the ether seconds after he opens his eyes. But this one…well, he's been having it a lot lately, and quite frankly, it's starting to piss him off. Because this one always lingers, plaguing his thoughts long into the day. It's making him nuts.

Besides, it's the reason he wakes up with a stiff one nearly every morning. Handling it (so to speak) has become part of his morning ritual. Get out of bed. Go into the bathroom. Jerk off. Take a piss. ('Cause even with his bladder at the bursting point, the one must come before the other.) Take a shower. Brush his teeth. Shave.

It shouldn't bother him so much, really, except he thought he was past the 'morning wood' stage of his life. He's twenty-eight years old, for crying out loud. Erotic dreams, even about his unbelievably hot neighbor, shouldn't still be plaguing him after a week.

They started the night of the new resident party, after a few too many beers made his knees go kinda soft and he had to be helped up to his apartment by the couple who had just moved in next door. He remembers the way she'd laughed when he told her he liked the way she smelled.

"That's because I smell like beer," she'd said and removed her arm from around his waist, letting him drop onto the bed.

He'd stared at the ceiling as the rest of the room spun slowly around him, had heard water running in the bathroom a few feet away, had felt his boots being tugged off. Lifting his head, he had seen her husband (Adam, he'd later learned when he'd accidentally gotten the guy's cell phone bill in his mailbox) dropping his boot to the floor beside the bed.

"My feet stink," Drake had said, wiggling his toes inside his socks and giggling.

Adam's mouth had curved into a crooked smile and his eyes had met Drake's in the dim light from the bathroom.

Drake's mouth had gone suddenly dry and all the blood left in his brain had seemed to settle somewhere further south.

When Adam's wife (Elaine? Erica? Something that starts with an 'E'.) had handed him two aspirin and a glass of water, he'd gulped down the water first, then swallowed the pills dry as an afterthought.

The next morning, he had awoken with his hand in his pants and Adam's face behind his eyelids.

That had been The Beginning. Six days later, Drake still can't shake the feeling that life as he's known it is over.

**Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.**

"Goddamn it."

Drake stares at the coffee maker for a few incredulous seconds, then flips the switch a couple times. Still nothing – no red light, no sizzle of heat as the water clinging to the outside of the carafe pops and sizzles against the warmer, no gurgle of water as it's pumped upward into the basket.

He pulls out the basket and stares at the mockingly dry coffee grounds, wondering briefly just how disgusting it would be to chew them. It couldn't be _that _bad, right? Kinda like espresso, only crunchier.

But the idea, while it sounds do-able in his head, seems like a really, really bad one to his stomach.

There's only one thing to do. He has to go out. Which of course means actually getting dressed and walking two blocks to the Starbucks for a venti Caffe Americano with a double shot of raspberry (the fact of which he keeps to himself).

Ten minutes later, he walks out the door with a day's worth of stubble and a pocketful of change from the jar on the coffee table.

And walks right into you-know-who.

**Thou shalt have no other gods before me.**

Drake's not religious, but he has the sudden urge to fall to his knees right there on the walkway and worship the man in front of him.

Running his tongue over his teeth, he also has the sudden urge to gargle.

"Good morning," Adam says.

"Morning," Drake says, saying it more like an observation than a greeting.

That half-smile curves Adam's lips and Drake feels himself swallow. "Where are you off to?" Adam asks him. "I've never seen you up so early."

Drake can't seem to stop staring at the way the man's lips form each word, at the way the tip of his tongue touches the edge of his front teeth when he says 'early'. "Coffee," Drake manages after a moment. He drags his eyes up to Adam's – they're a placid gray that remind Drake of the sky right after a storm.

"Is this a habit you've just acquired?"

Drake hears the words but doesn't comprehend them. He's thinking of stormy skies and peeling off wet clothes. "Huh?" he asks.

Adam tilts his head then and quirks an eyebrow at him. "I asked you if you've just started drinking coffee recently." He smiles again. "I'm out here every morning and I've never seen you go out for coffee before."

"Coffee maker's busted," Drake says, shrugging.

Adam nods then, a slow movement of his head that makes Drake think suddenly of waves breaking gently against the shore. Which makes him think of drowning. Which is what it feels like he's doing right now.

"Come on in," Adam says. "I'll make you some."

"Some what?"

Adam laughs. "Coffee," he says, adding, "Boy, you really don't function well without caffeine, do you?"

Drake smiles goofily. "What can I say? I'm a junkie."

"So is Evie," Adam says. "It takes her three cups before she even recognizes me in the morning." He opens the door to his apartment and stands aside to make room for Drake.

Drake shakes his head, his heart suddenly thudding against his ribs. He wonders if this is what a heart attack feels like. "N-No," he stammers. "Thanks. I'll just go down the street."

"And spend eight bucks on a single cup? No way. You can have all you want here for free." Adam motions inside with his head, his hand still on the doorknob. "Come on. I promise I won't bite."

_Oh God._ Drake _really _wishes he hadn't said that.

**Thou shalt not steal.**

The smell of coffee percolates through the apartment. Drake can even smell it in the bathroom where he's currently standing in front of the sink staring at himself in the mirror. He doesn't _look _any different, he thinks.

The shower curtain is covered with flowers. In fact, he noticed on his way in, the entire apartment is covered with flowers. Like a florist. Or a garden.

His eyes fall to something shiny on the counter next to the sink. Upon closer inspection, he discovers it's the silver cap to a small bottle of cologne. One of those trial-sized ones. Picking it up, he reads the label: "Temptation" it says in silver caps. Below that in smaller print, it says, "For Men."

He reaches for the cap and brings the bottle to his nose, inhaling deeply as he closes his eyes. He wonders how it would smell on his sheets…

A knock on the door nearly makes him swallow his own tongue and he clutches the tiny bottle tightly in his fingers to keep it from dropping into the sink.

"Coffee's ready whenever you are," Adam says from the other side of the door.

"O-Okay," Drake says, popping the cap back on the bottle. "Be there in a sec." Hurriedly he flushes the toilet and turns on the faucet. He stares once again at his reflection as he takes several deep breaths. Maybe he does look a little different. Or maybe it's just the flush in his cheeks.

When he feels composed, he turns off the water and reaches for the door with his right hand, the bottle still clutched tightly in his fingers. But instead of putting it back where he found it, he slips it into his hip pocket.

**Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.**

"Where's your wife?" Drake asks, taking a sip of coffee. He hopes that reminding himself that Adam is married will help quiet the voice inside his head telling him to crawl across the table and lick the man down the length of his body.

"Church."

Drake nearly chokes on his mouthful of coffee, burning his tongue.

Adam laughs. "Why does that shock you?"

Trying to recover, Drake mutters weakly, "I, uh, just didn't realize it was Sunday already." _Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck._

The way Adam looks at him then makes Drake squeeze his knees together under the table.

"Is it good?"

"Is what good?"

Adam smiles again. "I think you need another cup," he says, laughing, the sound rumbling deeply in his chest like thunder. Standing, he pads barefoot across the kitchen to retrieve the coffee pot.

From a distance, Drake sneaks a peek at Adam: The Whole Man. He's tall and lean with dark hair that would be curly if it were longer. He's wearing a snug white t-shirt through which Drake can see the muscles of his back working. His shorts are long, like swim trunks, and they're covered in pictures of big, broad leaves. They hang low on his hips and as he turns, a crescent of smooth tan skin peeks out from beneath the hem of his t-shirt. Drake grips his coffee mug with trembling fingers.

"Here you go," Adam says, refilling Drake's mug. "It's a special blend. Evie buys it from that specialty-foods store around the block." He places the pot back on the warmer and returns to the table, a small brown paper bag in his left hand. He places the bag on the table between them as he settles back in his seat. "Stuff's expensive, but apparently it's worth it." He taps the bag, his fingertip grazing just the top of the product name: Forbidden Fruit. "I don't touch the stuff myself, but Evie can't seem to resist."

**Thou shalt not commit adultery.**

Drake wonders if it's still considered adultery on his part if he's not married. Frankly, he doesn't think so and if it is, it shouldn't be.

Besides, in his defense, Adam kissed him first.

The End

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_Reviews are like blessings from above. Thank you._


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